Of Words Unspoken
by Valamon
Summary: Plagued by her friend's death and the rumors spread about her school, Fayleen must learn to cope. Little does she know that the children at school will be the least of her worries. Friend from dA CapricornSniper is assisting and adding characters.
1. Chapter 1

"Fay-Fay, is that you?"  
>Fayleen Knowle did not respond to her mother's call, it was not as if she were able to even if she wanted. She closed the door behind her and made her way through the kitchen, water dripping from every inch of her body.<br>"Fay?" Her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, emerald green eyes widening. "You're all wet! Did you forget to take the umbrella with you this morning?"  
>Fayleen shook her head. She had not forgetten as the forcast for the day had said it would be sunny. The sudden rain-fall had taken her by surprise.<br>"Hang on, I'll get you a towel." She disappeared from the doorway.  
>Before her mother returned, Fayleen kicked off her sneakers and hurried up to her room, taking the stairs two at a time.<br>Once she had shut the door, she tossed her book-bag on the floor by the computer desk and commenced removing the sopping wet clothes.  
>In one quick movement, she stripped off her t-shirt and capris to drop them in the basket at the foot of her bed.<br>She sat down in her swiveling arm-chair to peel off her socks.  
>There was a soft knock at the door. "Fay-Fay, may I come in?"<br>Fayleen stared at the door, giving no response.  
>"Okay, I'm coming in anyways." Ms. Knowle opened the door.<br>Fayleen watched her mother as she came forwards.  
>"Here you are, sweetheart." she said, smiling as she held out a dark blue towel.<br>Fayleen took the towel and began drying off her arms and upper torso.  
>"How was school today? Did you do well at track practice?"<br>Fayleen halted her movements, giving her mother an exasperated look.  
>"What? Did I say something wrong?"<br>Fayleen shook her head in response.  
>"Why won't you answer me? Did I upset you?"<br>Fayleen rolled her eyes and picked a digital pad and stylus off her desk. She quickly wrote something on it and held it up for her mother to see.  
>Surgery. Can't speak. Remember?<br>Her mother gasped and clapped her hands together. "Oh! Oh, yes. I forgot."  
>Fayleen shook her head. iOnly been the twelth time you've been reminded. Seriously need to keep that pad with you, Mother.i  
>"Well, I am going to go get dinner ready, is there anything you would like?"<br>Fayleen wrote something else on the board: Fruit smoothie.  
>Ms. Knowle smiled brightly. "Well a smoothie isn't much for dinner, but I'll make it for you."<br>She quickly made her way out of the room, leaving her daughter to finish drying herself off.


	2. Chapter 2

The previous day's rain brought a hazy fog down upon the small city. The clouds still hung ominously in the sky, threatening to drop a torrent of rain at any moment.  
>On such a day, Fayleen was out jogging with her red Irish Foxhound, Bolt. The dog was nearly dragging the teenager along as she spent her pent-up energy.<br>iI seriously wish she'd slow down. I know her head reaches my shoulder and her legs look like pool-sticks but does she really need to run everywhere?/i Fayleen sighed to herself as she tried to keep up with her dog.  
>As if Bolt had read her owner's thoughts, she halted. She walked over to a bush and started sniffing around it.<br>Fayleen tapped her foot as while she waited. iGreat, what is she sniffing at now?/i  
>Bolt growled as the bush rustled.<br>Annoyed, Fayleen lifted the whistle that was hung around her neck to her lips and gave a short, sharp blow.  
>The Foxhound looked up at her owner, ears perked.<br>Suddenly, a dark blur shot out from the bush.  
>Barking excitedly, Bolt took off after the blur, taking Fayleen by surprise.<br>The girl lost her footing and fell flat on her face. She was pulled along for nearly a yard before she let go of the leash.  
>Bolt did not even seem to notice the loss of her owner as she continued chasing down the blur.<br>With some effort, Fayleen go to her feet and started jogging in the direction Bolt went.  
>The Foxhound was trying to fit her head into a pipe, growling and clawing at it.<br>Fayleen stopped short of her dog and took up the whistle to give it a sharp blow.  
>Bolt pulled out her head to look at the teenager. A piece of turquoise colored cloth hung from her clenched jaws.<br>Fayleen pointed to the ground right in front of her.  
>The dog obediently walked over and sat down on the spot indicated by her master.<br>Fayleen knelt down and removed the cloth from the dog's mouth. She looked it over. There were several tears and the cloth had a mixture of blood and saliva soaking into it. iWhere did the blood come from? It doesn't appear to be Bolt's, I just see her saliva. It may be from whatever was in the bush. Ah well. May as well cut our walk short since she managed to get in more exercise than she would have otherwise./i She gave a short, softer blow on the whister and turned on her heels.  
>Bolt got to her feet and, after giving a quick look over her shoulder, followed her master.<p>

Fayleen walked though the back door and into the kitchen.  
>Her mother was cleaning the countertop with a sponge. She looked up as her daughter walked in. "Oh, honey! What happened?"<br>Fayleen held a hand up so the bottom was flat and used the other to represent a person walking on it, then falling over.  
>"Oh, did Bolt knock you over again?"<br>Fayleen nodded and put the whistle up on a small hook next to the door. She then pulled the piece of turquoise cloth from her pocket and held it up.  
>"What's that?"<br>Her daughter shrugged and offered it to her.  
>Her mother looked it over. "It looks like a bandana. I could clean and stitch it up, if you would like to keep it. Otherwise, I can just use it for my sewing."<br>Fayleen shrugged, putting up her hands to show that she did not really mind what was done.  
>"Okay. I'll just wash it first, then. You should get those cuts cleaned up, sweetie. They may get infected."<br>Fayleen hurried off towards the bathroom upstairs. The last thing she needed was a lecture from her mother about cleaning scrapes.  
>In the bathroom, she had the chance to examine her wounds more closely. The deeper cuts on her legs had small rocks embedded in them. Small bruises were beginning to form as well.<br>Once her wounds were cleaned and bandaged, Fayleen retreated to the sanctuary of her room, not to be seen until the next morning.


End file.
